


A Fine Addition to This Collection

by PrimarchOmegon



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Dark Eldar, Eldar, F/M, Humans, M/M, Multi, Sisters of Battle, Space Marines, Trollzyn, commission, tau - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 03:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16508705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimarchOmegon/pseuds/PrimarchOmegon
Summary: Commission for a friend!Trazyn the Infinite has nothing else to do that would be more funny than collecting a few speciment of different races and drop all of them into a confined space to see what happens. Safe to say, he was not impressed by the outcome.





	1. Chapter 1

Trazyn the Infinite didn’t have much to do these days. In fact, there was nothing to do at all. His latest set had been completed and the most logical approach would have been to find something new to occupy himself with. Or occupying himself with finding something new to occupy himself with. However, he didn’t… _feel_ like it. As much as an immortal body made out of living metal could be capable of feeling anything that would resemble an actual emotion anyway. How would a fleshy body be able to take care of all the tasks and difficulties that the profession as a historian and preserver of endangered objects brought with it?  
_Historian_ , Trazyn had always liked that word. It had a certain value to it, a dignified ring. And if one would marvel at his carefully curated collection, they would most likely come to the conclusion that this was not a… hobby, as mortals would call it. It was a matter of remembering legacies and stories. He had no choice but to remember everything, there was no end to all the things he remembered, no matter if object, subject or artefact. And he would keep on remembering until he would run out of space in both regards. So why not occupy it with something worth remembering?  
“Ah, but what is a collection if there is no one to look at it?”, he said, already used to talking to himself. Necrons were not a particularly good race when it came to making conversation, he knew that very well. And even if they were, he doubted that his servants would tell him something worthwhile besides their unending desire for genocide and general distaste of life. In some way, he would have deemed it as sad. Narrow-minded. Life was much more interesting if you preserved it in the right way. Life had so many interesting things of offer, like irony, for example. Trazyn liked irony. Perhaps there even was an irony to a Necron liking something like irony. Or liking anything at all, for that matter.  
  
“Perhaps a tour is in order.” But which exhibit to start with? Well, the first one he would come across, of course.  
“Ah, yes.” Even now, while being disconnected from its owner for so long, the feather inside the casket still produced some sort of glow he couldn’t explain. Though he had been quick to carve out patterns into the walls of its container so that it would shine through and illuminate its own place in his collection. If he had been just a tad faster, he could have collected more, maybe even the entire corpse. A primarch would have fit well into this room, but only a full set with the Arch Traitor would make the Saint look truly complete.  
The clicking of his metal fingers against the ornamented, silver box on the second pedestal echoed through the wide room when he moved on. This one was one of his favourites. It had taken considerable amounts of work and very inconsiderate amounts of trouble to get this one where it belonged.  
“What has never known each other finally meets at last. Very delicate indeed.”, he said. If he had had been made out of flesh still, he would have probably smiled and nodded when his gaze found the strand of blindingly white hair inside. At first, Trazyn had thought nothing of this when he had initially spotted this particular item. Of course, all matters that had once belonged to a son of the Emperor himself were highly valuable, however, he was already in possession of the most perfect replica of the Phoenician that he could think of. Why bother with some hair? However, tests and inspections of said hair had revealed to be something entirely different, as nothing was able to tell him whom exactly this had belonged to. The samples of the Phoenician did not match, other than confirming that this had indeed been part of a being much greater than any human or Astartes.  Too similar to not be related, too different to be exactly the same. It was a mystery too good to pass up on.  
  
“And then there is you.” The severed index and middle finger didn’t answer him, though even if they had, it wouldn’t have surprised him, judging from the pure regret and fury they seemed to emit. Trazyn had always admired these for their particular aesthetic value besides being able to also function as normal limbs would, had they still been attached to their owner. The silver coating faintly reflected the soft, golden glow the feather produced.  
Perhaps it was time to make an effort to expand his collection regarding the sons of the Master of Mankind. He had heard the rumours from Commorragh and the all-seeing Eye of Terror, whispers from something or someone that _had_ _seen_ someone or something.  
Again, his fingers trailed across the casing of yet another item. The bronze circlet was dull and barely polished, however, Trazyn had chosen to not change anything about that. Given whom this had belonged to, it would have only decreased its questionable prestige. Coating and cleaning it off with blood would have possibly been enough to do it justice, considering whose head it had once adorned.  
Trazyn found it rather unfortunate that he hadn’t been able to find the head in order to complete the set and overall aesthetics of this particular piece. Although asking the Night Lords things was a somewhat fruitless and frustrating endeavour, they did tend to be rather… unfriendly after all. He had heard something about this very head being a highly cursed object, an artefact of utmost malice. A logical conclusion, since it had been a comfortable home for an unstable mind with such twisted morals. Wherever it may be as of now, he would have very much welcomed such an extravagant find in his collection. Hopefully, it would be intact as well once he’d find it, it would be a shame if there were teeth missing. Some people just didn’t know any better when handling such intricate curiosities.  
  
“Perhaps it is time for something a little more… entertaining.” To think about obtaining a skull from the Golden Throne itself was quite challenging, it would take years to pull of such a thing. But when would it get tedious to the point where he would post-pone everything? On second thought, something told him that he’d tire of it rather fast, after all, it had all been done before, one way or another. There had to be something else, something that was a little more… _fun_.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“I demand to know what this is supposed to be!” He shook his head as much as he could, given his current placement.  
“I don’t know, Sir…” The Commissar under him let out an annoyed growl, although it was halfway muffled by the see-through wall of the exhibit cube his face was pressed against. This thing was gigantic, one could’ve displayed an entire Leman Russ in here! But instead, they were the ones being showed off for some unknown reason.  
“Don’t you dare dig your elbows into my ribs like that again, navigator!”  
“I didn’t mean to, Sir! It’s hard not to-” He let out a grunt when something hit his back and pushed him deeper into the massive pile of limbs below him. What in the name of holy Terra- blessed by the Emperor of Man!- was going on here? He had been sleeping in his quarters in orbit above the desert world of Sulanor II seemingly a moment ago and now he was here. Wherever _here_ was!  
There was hardly anything he could hear from the top but something that sounded like a Sister of Battle had been dumped into this prison as well, perhaps she had been the one that had unwillingly made him sink deeper into this mess to begin with.  
“Oh my, hello there.” For a moment, he dared not even breathe, considering he had just come up in between the spread legs of what was definitely an Emperor’s Children. One that wore the most shit-eating grin he had ever seen, no less. The symbols on the adorned- and in some cases thorny!- armour made his head pound most uncomfortably, but the face…  
  
“And what is your name, little one?” He swallowed hard, trying to keep his mouth from going dry. In all honesty, he had avoided Emperor’s Children like the plague during his time of service and he hadn’t planned on meeting one any time soon.  
“Iasa- _Sire_!”  
“Well, pleased to make your acquaintance…” Surprisingly slender fingers found their way to his chest, fiddling with the patch on his uniform.  
“ _Navigator_.” He was painfully aware of the fact that he was still staring. The Emperor’s Children was by far not a usual example of his kind, his facial features were fine, but not too feminine to contrast his muscular physique. The only thing irritating about him was the soft, lavender colour of his eyes, that drew in anyone looking at them for too long. That and the purple veins at the side of his face. Every now and then, they seemed to move, as if they were not part of the body and instead wiggled their way through from under the skin. And what skin it was, pale and flawless, probably also soft if he’d reach out to touch it. Should he touch it? Iasa didn’t really know if he even cared about that any longer, the motion of other bodies against his own, pressing him further against the Emperor’s Children, was intoxicating.  
“A psyker, are we? Why don’t you come a little closer?”  
  
“As much as I can, Sire…!” If only his legs would still work, then he would actually be able to kick people behind him in the face right now.  
“A psyker _and_ a cripple! That means you can’t run from me, now can you?”  
“No, Sire.” It took him quite a lot of effort to somewhat free himself enough in order to drag himself onto the other’s front, shoving everyone aside as best as possible.  
“Well then, just share with the others like a good boy.” Iasa had only just realised that the sudden rutting and shaking he was able to feel every now and then actually came from the Emperor’s Children. The chest plate had come undone hand his black under suit had been opened from what Iasa could see. However, the hands underneath were significantly smaller. And definitely, most positively more purple. And scarred.  
Somewhere behind the man, he was able to make out something like a head with white hair that seemed to have lodged itself between the Space Marine’s broad shoulders.  
“That is the Drukhari woman I landed on when I was thrown in here.”, he said immediately before Iasa could even ask.  
“And right now, I believe she’s trying to drink my spinal fluids.” Ah, that would explain a lot. Yes.  
Iasa pushed himself forward again. This man smelled nice He couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it seemed to be on his skin as well. It was all he could smell and all that he had ever wanted to smell.  
  
Someone grabbed his right foot, there were several knees and elbows in his back that pressed him against the body underneath and he couldn’t help but love every second of it. Never had he been given so much attention, never had someone touched him more than necessary and actually had his enjoyment in mind. The metal storage space, the iron sarcophagus that he had called his home once, grew more distant and cold the longer he thought about it. Iasa had wasted his life serving someone that thought of him as interchangeable. Wherever he was, he would rather have the Emperor’s Children touching him than to be back on that ship. This was so much better, it felt so much better.  
The Drukhari woman let out something that could have been interpreted as a pleased growl when Iasa felt her delicate, elongated fingers sliding down the Astartes’ stomach to reach back into the under suit. His hips jerked upwards at that and he chuckled, thus rocking Iasa back and forth lightly for a bit.  
“You’ve got a strong grip, woman. And cold hands! But I suppose that’s only fair, after all, I am the same.” The navigator tried to somewhat lift his head without getting it kicked by someone, when he noticed that the arms that held him belonged to the Emperor’s Children. And so did the ones reaching behind their owner’s head to slowly, very slowly, but steadily strangle the Dark Eldar.  
“Care to play with us? How are you doing, my little cripple?”  
“Good, Sire.”  
  
“Really…” The moment he felt the ghost of fingers on the inside of his thighs, Iasa shivered. Of course, this was not the first time someone had done that, but never had it been like _this_. The way he was used to was distant and cold, not at all comfortable. Not at all wanting to make him feel appreciated.  
“How about now?” Iasa gasped at how firm his ass was grabbed all of a sudden. And just how intentional it had been.  
“Fantastic, Sir…!” Was it this man who touched him right now or perhaps someone entirely different, somewhere behind him? And did that even matter? In the end, everything was better than dealing with the Night Lords again.  
“Now now, don’t get too excited. I had to place your legs all on my own, you selfish little thing.”  
“I’m sorry, Sir…?” In retrospect, he should have probably been more respectful, considering how much those armoured fingers dug into his soft flesh all of a sudden. Iasa arched his back and squirmed a little, although that was about all he could do. And just because he couldn’t move his legs any longer didn’t mean that he had also lost all tactile sensation in said limbs.  
“What was that?”  
“I’m sorry, Sir!”  
“That’s better. And you under there, stop teasing!” The Drukhari gurgled a few foreign words that were probably curses, most likely because of the strangling grip around her throat tightening. Out of the corner of his eye, Iasa was able to make out blue skin and something soft pressing itself against one of his shoulders and when something above him hit his head.  
  
“Despite your primitive heritage, you should get a hold of yourself, Mon’Keigh.”, the Eldar above him said. It was obvious that she was ready to hit him again, should he fail to comply.  
“Ah yes, the ever so vigilant Eldar…”, the Emperor’s Children drawled. The Drukhari that he squished by leaning backwards a little didn’t seem all too pleased at the mentioning of Eldar, but kept her opinion and curses to herself this time.  
“Why don’t you drag yourself over here? Heard from a squad-mate you drop a piece of candy when you die!” Iasa didn’t know much about xenos in general, which was why that joke went over his head.  
“Be a bit nicer to the Gue’la, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”, someone said next to him and Iasa almost broke his neck trying to look at who was pressing himself against his shoulder. And when he finally managed to peek, he was unwillingly shoved face first into a female Tau’s breasts by someone moving on his other side. At least he guessed that it was female, considering he had never seen one of them before. Though he had to admit, what he saw was quite nice. In fact, this was the most attention he had ever gotten from women this far! This truly was a blessing and Iasa didn’t care if it was a miracle of the Emperor or some weird gods. He only cared about not having it stop.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
In retrospect, he had hoped that they would murder each other. That would have been more fun to watch than whatever this was. Mating? Organic species truly were slaves to their reproductive organs.  
Trazyn sighed, although that would have usually required lungs. Well, it had been fun collecting specimen from all over the galaxy and it had momentarily eased his boredom. He’d leave them to it for a little longer until a few of them had died of starvation. Or if they started to eat each other, that would be something interesting to watch.  
“So… Are you not going to drop me in?” Oh, right. He had reserved this one for something special.  
“Who said I was going to drop you in there? No, you generously traded some of them with me, why would I violate our fine agreement like this?”, he said, glancing at the man in front of him.  
“Because you’re a Necron.”  
“Now, that shouldn’t affect our contract, should it, Lord Table?” At least it hadn’t, but now that the contract was fulfilled…  
“I guess that is it then?”  
“It is.”, Trazyn nodded, his hands behind his back already reaching for a stasis grenade on his belt.  
“ _Though you’re very welcome to stay a while longer._ ”


End file.
